


Paterfamilias, or Five Times Jim Kirk Took Care of his Crew (and one time they took care of him)

by sullacat



Series: Across the Universe [2]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Established Relationship, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sullacat/pseuds/sullacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The pater familias had <i>vitae necisque potestas</i> - the "power of life and death" - over his children, his wife (in some cases), and his slaves, all of whom were said to be <i>sub manu</i>, "under his hand"." (from wikipedia)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paterfamilias, or Five Times Jim Kirk Took Care of his Crew (and one time they took care of him)

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/2494.html?thread=5160638#t5160638) at the Livejournal Star Trek Kink Meme.
> 
> None of this belongs to me, of course. No infringement intended, no profit made.

It was an impossible family, Spock decided one afternoon as he watched the bridge crew performing most admirably as always. How else could one describe them - all too young for their jobs, all alone in space, without parent or spouse or child on board, bound together by destiny or tragedy or whatever illogical human euphemism best fit. Different people sat in the senior officer seats, depending on the time of day, but in the end there were six of them, more like brothers and sister than co-workers. That it worked was still a mystery to him.

Most improbable was their leader, their father, their _paterfamilias_ , to use an old Earth term. Jim Kirk was younger than everyone save Uhura and Chekov, yet their lives were implicitly in those young hands. He decided on who would go on away missions, who would made up the security teams, who would be in the most direct line of danger. There were crew on board that had families of their own, were mothers and fathers, and their lives ultimately in the hands of this brash young captain.

The responsibility weighed heavy on those steady shoulders, yet Kirk carried it as if it were light as a feather, no matter what was asked of him.

He had one rule: No one was left behind.

 

* * *

  


(I)

"Left, slide, right, back, left, slide, right, back"

It was confusing him, because while Jim was saying left, right, his own feet moved opposite of his words. Despite any smartass commentary Bones might have on the situation, Jim wasn't a woman, had never been a woman, would never be a woman, thank you. But the kid had to learn, so the kid had to lead... and the kid has asked him, out of everyone on board, if he could teach him to dance.

"I am learning, yes, Captain?" Chekov asked, his eyes bright and shining in a way that only someone under the age of twenty could pull off.

Chekov's eyes darted down again towards their feet.

"Look up," Jim snapped, grinning as the younger man popped his head up immediately. "Can't look down. Look into my eyes. Computer," he called out. "Start program again."

The music cued up and began again, eyes locked on each other. They glided about Chekov's cabin, or rather, moved as best they could with Pavel's two left feet stepping on Jim's every few minutes.

"I'm sorry about this, Captain," Chekov replied, blushing again. "I didn't know who else to ask."

"It's what I'm here for," Jim answered, the smile on his face genuine, despite the occasional wince. "Now, if you really want to impress her, slide your hand down, just a bit," he added, reaching back to move Pavel's hand down from the small of his back to the top of his ass. "That'll show her you mean it."

The blush on the kid's face was totally worth the broken pinky toe.

* * *

  


(II)

Jim had seen Sarek around the ship this past week; he came aboard on their last stop as he traveled, seeking out the remnants of his species, trying to convince them to assist with the re-population of New Vulcan. Kirk wasn't a hundred percent sure, but he thinks that Sarek wanted Spock to join him. He's also pretty certain that their last conversation ended with harsh words; well, as harsh as they could be without raising their voices.

It hadn't taken long for Jim to learn the unspoken language of Vulcan. The tilt of a head, a tenseness about the shoulders, a tapping of fingertips across the computer console - each movement spoke volumes about what the man was feeling, if one only stopped to observe.

So one evening Kirk joined Spock while he quietly took his evening meal. It was the anniversary of the Kelvin incident, and while Spock ate Jim talked. He opened up about his feelings, about being the son of George Kirk, talking in way that he hadn't ever talked to anyone, not his mother, not Bones, not _anyone_. He spoke of an absent father and a larger than life legend. "It's not easy when your father is someone so highly regarded, so admired. There are times I'm sure I'll never be good enough to be his son. But I can't worry about that. I've got a job to do here," he added, "and the only way I'm going to make him proud is by just doing my job the best way I can. I don't owe it to him, I don't owe anything to him. But I do owe it to me."

A drop of the head. "I'm quite certain, Captain, that your actions thus far have already proven you to be a capable and-"

"We're off-duty, call me Jim."

Shoulders slid imperceptibly. "Captain," he began.

"New orders have come in from Starfleet," Jim interrupted. " A new mission. We're going to begin surveying the third quadrant of vernal galaxy." His face was impassive as he spoke. "It's been made a top priority, and I'm putting you in charge of coordinating all departments and preparing the report for Starfleet."

An eyebrow lifted. "Captain, if this is some attempt to give me 'busy work' then I must object-"

"It's not busy work," Jim told him sharply as stood. "All this needs to be done, and before we reach Talos IV. I'd suggest you get busy."

Spock's spine straightened as Jim's hand rested briefly on his shoulder as he walked by. "Commander, you're needed here. Don't for a minute think that leaving us is an option."

An exhale. "Yes, Cap- Jim. I won't let you down. "

"You never have," was Jim's reply. _And you never will._

* * *

  


(III)

"He's been helping her, I know it," Sulu confided in Kirk one evening as they were heading down to check out a problem in Engineering. "She says he hasn't," Sulu smirked, "but her game's improved exponentially."

Jim nodded. He more than anyone knew how strong a chess-player Spock was, and as close as he and Nyota were, it was no wonder that she'd picked up some moves. "How can I help?" Jim asked.

"You've played him," Sulu replied. "Show me what he does, how he starts. Any information, anything could be helpful."

Jim smiled in a feral way. "My quarters, after dinner."

They played several openings, Kirk played his best, showing Sulu strategies that he knew Spock liked to use.

By the day of the match, so much joking and comments had been made about the game that several people had gathered to watch. Scotty apparently had a betting pool going, despite Spock's admonishment regarding wagering. Kirk paced like an expectant father. He kept one eye on the game and the other on Spock, standing still as a statue on the corner, speaking with the tilt of his head, the lift of an eyebrow.

Complaints were made by those wagering that both sides had spies helping them, and in the end Bones removed both Jim and Spock from the room to sickbay, where they glared at each other until they were released.

Uhura won best two out of three, and celebrated by inviting everyone to join her in the recreation room on deck five.

Kirk and Sulu immediately began plans for a rematch.

* * *

  


(IV)

Starfleet Safety Protocol 16 states that an officer who reports intoxicated for work should be placed on immediate suspension pending formal procedures to remove said officer from duty.

But Jim's not going to do that. Not right now.

Right now the best thing he can do for his Chief Engineer is find him somewhere safe to sit and drink, and listen.

"I lost her, Jim," Scotty mutters again and again in a quiet, gravelly voice, so different from the jocularity everyone was used to hearing from him.

Kirk doesn't say anything. What is there to say? Enterprise was the only ship in the vicinity when the distress call came in from the Andorian colony. A super storm had engulfed the planet, and the sea level was rising faster than they could evacuate. Scotty'd been transporting Andorians non-stop for hours, relocating the refugees from their flooding planet up to the Enterprise, then back down to their new home on the adjacent moon.

The problem with being the best was that when you failed, it hit you hard.

Even harder was when the failure resulted in death; in this case, death of the most devastating kind.

"What if," Scotty asked himself, for the hundredth time, "What if - what if I never had her? What if she never dematerialized, Jim? If she was down there, all alone and scared as the water rose? What if she was still alive..."

Jim hadn't been there when the family group, minus the five year old daughter, rematerialized in the transporter bay, but he'd heard that the cries from the parents, the mother in particular, were heartbreaking to everyone who was present.

Nobody blamed Scotty, but something in him broke that afternoon, and three days later he still hadn't recovered.

Jim doesn't shush him or tell him to stop thinking that way. They all think that way. They _have_ to think that way, because they _are_ the best, and that keeps them the best. Jim's crew knows how important their jobs are, knows that the lives of everyone on board and many, many others depend on whether or not they're having a good or bad day.

Because Jim reminds them, even when he doesn't say a word.

 

* * *

  


(V)

 

These hands were supposed to be cool to the touch, Jim thought bleakly. Comforting, healing... not bandaged and burned.

Cleaning plasma conduits. What a fucking stupid way to get yourself killed. The ensign who'd been assigned the task should have been beamed to sickbay as soon as the conduit ruptured, but her condition was reported as too grave to survive the transport. Bones had insisted on treating her immediately in Engineering, after clearing the room of everyone.

 _This was hell_ , Jim clenched his fists together, feeling utterly helpless. No other way to describe watching someone you love teetering on the thin edge of life and death. _How does he do it?_ Sitting in the corner of the room, watching as others worked on Bones' radiation-ridden body, he wondered what the fuck must it be like for Bones to have to patch up his body, mission after mission; sometimes a simple wound, more often something more serious, each time carefully putting him back together again, like that silly rhyme his mom used to tell him when she'd fix up his scraped knees and elbows as a little boy.

They'd be at the nearest Starbase in 11 hours, but that wasn't quick enough for Ensign Morris, who died an hour after being carried to sickbay. Bones would make it, but his hands were badly damaged and required significant dermal regeneration. Even now, hours later, the bandages looked like over-sized white mittens on the sleeping man.

"Captain?" It's Uhura, sent in to check on both of them. "Can I bring you anything?" she asked, knowing he was not going to leave sickbay on his own.

For a fleeting moment his mother's face flashed in his head. "Yeah," he told her. "Yeah, you can," he said thoughtfully as he asked her to help with something special for Bones.

And so it was when McCoy woke up later than night, the first thing he saw was Jim curled up in the chair next to him, watching him intently with those eyes of his.

"You alright?" Bones asked weakly.

Jim nodded, reaching out to touch his hair carefully. "Leonard McCoy," he whispered, "Do something this stupid again and I'll buck you down to Ensign so fast your head will spin. You understand?" he exhaled, reaching down to kiss his still-warm skin, ending up half-sprawled on the bed next to him, and not giving a fuck who saw them.

One of the nurses shuffled around them, the one with the blinky eyes who's name Jim couldn't pronounce. She ran a scan over Bones' quickly, checking his vitals. Jim watched her moving efficiently, then stopped her as she moved away from them. "Go ahead and go, I'll let you know if there's a change in his condition."

"Captain, someone has to stay-"

"Go," he told her again. "I'm here all night, I'll call you if something happens. I've got him," he told her gently.

She nodded. "I'll be across the hall," she told him, swallowing the lump in her throat at the sight of the captain lifting a glass to Doctor McCoy's lips. "Take care of him," she said as she grabbed her datapad and headed toward the door.

"Yes ma'am," he answered too quietly for her to hear, looking into Bones' eyes. "Always."

He put one hand behind Bones' back. "Think you can sit up?" he asked, adjusting the bed until Bones was in a seated position. "There we go now, almost ready," Jim said, tucking a napkin under the patient's chin.

"What are you doing?" Bones asked, his eyes moving toward the container Jim was opening. The smell was familiar, yet...

"Here," Jim told him, lifting the spoon to his mouth, "eat this. It will make you feel better."

"Chicken soup, Jim?" Bones chuckled weakly. "You never struck me as the mother hen type."

Jim opened his mouth to tell him to shut up, but their eyes met, and it took all he had in him not to tear up at the sight of Bones, bandaged and broken. _How does he do this everyday, look at people who were falling apart and make them better?_ How did he deal with Jim stumbling in here on a regular basis, broken and battered. "You're so much stronger than I am," he said aloud, lifting another spoonful into his mouth. Bones just watched his face as he ate. "You're my right arm, and I can't lose you."

Bones lifted a heavily bandaged hand. "Some help I am now. Can't even feed myself."

"And that is what I am here for," Jim replied.

"I may throw up on you," Bones admitted.

"You go right ahead," Jim told him, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

* * *

  


(and one time his crew helped him...)

 

He's alone. Once he remembers why he's alone, he's thankful for that fact.

 

When he awoke, he was in some kind of immobilization tank, surrounded by water, pulsing water. He felt it inside him, thumping, pounding. He could breathe, but not much else - there was no room.

He remembered what happened. _A fucking trap_ , he thought, but one he fell for. Distress call from the surface. Unable to beam down because of ionic interference in the atmosphere, they'd taken the shuttlecraft to the surface. Kirk, Spock, a couple of Ensigns, and a medical officer, not Bones, thank God not Bones, who had to stay behind to work on quarantined patients. _Bones, safe on board. Safe... might not have been able to leave him..._

They landed right outside the burning remains of a Klingon settlement, recently destroyed. Within minutes they were surrounded; the captain of the Klingon cruiser who'd also rushed to the distress call and found only Federation officers at the scene demanded their lives as blood payment for lives lost.

Kirk negotiated so that it would be only him, allowing the rest of the away team to live. The needs of the many, he told them, outweigh the needs of the one, and was never more proud of them when they listened to him and quietly made their way back to the shuttle.

The last thing he saw was Spock, calm as ever as he closed the door to the shuttlecraft. _His eyes are sad_ , he thought, surprised, then nothing as something blunt hit the back of his head.

 

 

They moved him into a room filled with Klingons, cheering and screaming as he was pushed into the center of the floor, still shivering cold from the water. His eyes were aching and blurry, he couldn't move his left arm, and he was pretty sure something was wrong with his ribs or chest - sharp pains accompanied each breath. Soon more Klingons gathered on the floor, encircling him while chanting and yelling loudly at each other. Unable to find any sort of way out of this room, he admitted to himself that this might be the last no-win situation he'd encounter. _Great_ , he thought watching as the crowd grew more raucous. _Not only am I going to die, I'm entertainment._

One Klingon in particular was jumping and yelling more than the others. Seeming to catch everyone's attention, Jim's eyes were locked on another Klingon moving intently toward him, spear in his hand. He couldn't see him clearly, but the Klingon was moving fast, pointing the spear at him. Jim straighten as much as he could, preparing to take the blow when the spear went wide left and behind him. Before he knew what was happening, the Klingon used the spear to pull him close to his body.

"Now!" the Klingon screamed, catching the eye of his partner, the Klingon who'd been distracting the others. Jim still didn't comprehend what was happening as they dematerialized, not understanding how all of a sudden he was in the sickbay of his ship, one Klingon barking orders to the medical staff, the other one running out the door. A flash of understanding went through his head as he caught sight of the hypospray, a gentle hand tilting his neck back.

"I've got you, Jim," the voice was gentle and familiar, and he opened his mouth to ask when the world went black.

 

To their disbelief, it had been a rogue Klingon, trying to worsen relations between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. But he hasn't succeeded, for working as a team - working as a family - Spock corrected himself, for no team ever worked harder, each one used their skills and talents to save their captain.

Uhura spent hours reviewing the communications records, listening for anything out of the ordinary until she found it, the hidden subspace transmission; Chekov and Sulu put their massive brains together and threw everything they could at it, finally cracking the scrambled coded transmissions showing how they'd been lured there by a false distress call. Scotty managed to weave his way past the Klingon ship's modulation codes and lower their shields enough to beam Spock and Bones, in disguise, on board.

Once his more serious injuries were healed, Kirk was ordered to stay off his feet for an additional three days before resuming his duties. In that time, however, he went to each and every crew member who'd had any part in his rescue, from the First Officer to the ensigns whose cosmetic skills made the Klingon disguises possible. He shook their hands and told them how grateful he was for their help, and was touched beyond measure when each of them related a story of how he'd helped them at some point in time.

 

Jim had a special dinner in his quarters for the senior bridge crew, two weeks after his rescue. They didn't discuss what had happened to Jim, or what they had done to help him.

Instead, Chekov related a story about how his grandmother had accidentally shot his grandfather while on a hunting trip, which led to their first date.

Sulu, Scotty and Kirk got into a contest over who had the best scar, and were beaten soundly by Spock and his four parallel claw marks on his left leg, a gift from the le-matya received when he was just a boy.

Kirk embarrassed Bones by letting it be known that he has a tattoo on his back, the word 'Rebels' written in red and blue, a memento from his college days at Old Miss.

Uhura taught the guys how to say 'I love you' in five languages.

* * *

There were seven of them, an impossible family. No one was left behind, ever.

 

2009.06.19


End file.
